What wonder and joy in this poem, playing with words, rhyme and rhythm as drunkenly as it plays with a wonderful story — an old woman getting drunk as the moon rises. Is she drunk on the moon, or actually drinking? Made me want to open a nice bottle of wine!
The Old Woman Gets Drunk with the Moon
by Hailey Leithauser
The moon is rising everywhere;
The moon’s my favorite easy chair,
My tin pot-top, my green plum tree,
My brassy buttoned cavalry
Tap-dancing up a crystal stair.
O watch them pitch and take the air!
Like shoo fly pies and signal flares,
Like clotted cream and bumblebees,
The moons are rising.
How hits-the-spot, how debonair,
What swooned balloons of savoir faire,
What purr of rain-blurred bright marquees
That linger late, that wait for me,
Who’ll someday rest my cold bones there
In moons that rise up everywhere.
“The Old Woman Gets Drunk with the Moon” by Hailey Leithauser, from Swoop. © Graywolf Press, 2013.